


#ridethebull

by Syndicate_V



Series: The Force and the Sway [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Light BDSM, Multi, PWP, Rimming, Smut, Various Kinks, a threesome at one point, heart eyes emoji, tags updated as necessary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syndicate_V/pseuds/Syndicate_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Adaar and Iron Bull bone.</p><p>A lot.</p><p> </p><p>  <s>Because they're inventive and there's lots of nooks and crannies, both in Skyhold and in them.</s></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dry Humping

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my GotVG account [here](http://gotvg.net/viewstory.php?sid=2379&warning=5).
> 
> Pasted from the AN there: "Trying to get more into smut/get comfortable with all types (i.e. scenes that don't involve solely women-identifying characters, so this'll be hella~) and I feel like Bull's character is just really rad for that because I feel like he'd be down for a lot sexually, as long as all parties are consenting adults, mind you. What a cutie.
> 
> Anyways yeah here have fun c:"
> 
> Hope you all enjoy; someone drag me away from the kinkmeme.

She's expressed her interest in him long ago, with certainty guiding her hand, but a marked hesitation on her breath. For all his swagger, all his cockiness, he stuttered when Sataareth handed him the dragon's tooth, let out a choked sigh at her reasoning. He pressed a hand to her hair, unbound from their...recent activities, and called her "Kadan", a name she's heard her parents refer to each other as, long ago. Explained the meaning behind it, made her eyes feel misty. The warmth in his tone matched the heat in his gaze and, despite the previous meddling of her three advisors, the moment wasn't _entirely ruined_.

Now, Sataareth is all flustered for a different reason entirely. At the behest of her peers (mostly cajoling from Sera, mind you), she's been dealt into a round of Wicked Grace, which she's sworn to never participate in because Varric has deft little fingers and will swindle one for all they've got. Sera's no better, barely managing to hide her intent behind bawdy jokes about the Inquisitor's "ditties". The latter would give as good as she's gotten, but, well, ever since that bee mission, she has her reservations.

And Maker forgive her if she's ever able to focus on her cards, what with Bull next to her, flexing his pecs for all he's worth. More so than usual? Damn that man to the Void and back; he's an awful distraction.

Varric notices her eyes unfocus as she tries, in vain, to stare her cards into submission. He cocks a brow, all-too-knowingly. "Having trouble there, _Inquisitor_?"

Now all eyes are on her. Sera huffs loudly, mutters something along the lines of "just find yourself a nice spot in his trousers, yeah?" and, if the heat rising to Sataareth's cheeks is any indicator, she's blushing. Or, well, doing something in a pale mockery of the act; her face has tried in the past to blush, but it's always failed miserably. As long as she's able to school her features into nonchalance, no one will be any the wiser...

Chancing another glance to the object of her affections, she finds him flexing, _once more_ , with the most insufferable of grins. Cocky little _shit_. Oh, but the movement of those muscles is doing something to her, making her lower bits scream out for the Maker to rebuke them for being so lascivious.

Right, she needs air.

Her hands meet the table they're playing on with a loud smack as she rises, drawing more attention to her. "Right. I'm heading downstairs, gonna get us more drinks. Refills, anyone? Everyone? Excellent." She snatches up as many of the tankards as she can carry and practically flees down the stairs, a near-bumbling mess.

Maker, bless this mess. She's seen practically all that there is to be seen of Bull's body (he isn't so much of a _hedonist_ , per se, just...surprisingly flexible and very, _very_ comfortable with his body), and yet, something as mundane as the rippling of the flesh that she sees every **damn** day gets her flesh all a-quiver with delight.

_"A-quiver with delight?"_ She'll be taking a break from Varric's smut if that phrasing can sneak its way in, no problem.

With a sigh, she pats at her face with magic-imbued touch, willing her chilled fingertips to lower the temperature of her cheeks. Finding one's, ah, "Kadan" (the word still causes a thrill to roll up her spine, if she imagines Bull saying it, it's all the worse) attractive isn't a crime, surely. Acting on these thoughts--the ones that'd make the templar in Cullen demand her turned Tranquil because such thoughts could only belong to a desire demon, _hurr hurr_ \--is probably one. Well, the more...vocal thoughts anyways. The ones that demand that she take Bull and rip off his clothes in the middle of a town, an outpost, et cetera. The people that refer to her as a Herald of Andraste, as Inquisitor, probably wouldn't like that terribly much.

And now Sataareth wonders: Did Andraste even...y'know?

_Nooope, bad thought._ She can hear Cassandra calling her a filthy blasphemer now, Dorian chuckling his amusement. Interesting sort, her companions.

...Some of which are waiting back upstairs for her. Right. Drinks.

The bar's tender has the night off, so Sataareth is left to her own devices. Luckily, this isn't the first time her and her companions have commandeered the bar, so it is simply a matter of tilting the right keg and popping the proper tab to get the pale amber that she seeks. She fills one mug, hums absentmindedly as she works on the second, bending over the bar to get a better handle on the keg, when she feels a rather familiar hand ghost across her bottom.

And damn-near drops the tankard.

_Damn him to the Void and back._

"Kadan," There is absolutely no need for his voice to sound like that, "You forgot a few steins."

Of course she did. She just wanted to get away from the terror that is Bull's body. A delicious, delicious terror, but...

_Damn him to the Void and back!_

The sound of the tankards hitting the bar behind her barely registers, but his hand returning to her bottom fully does. Even through her breeches, it is unsettlingly warm, tracing the outline of her smalls with one cared-for claw.

She opens her mouth, whether to rebuke him or not, she isn't certain. But it comes out in a _whoosh_ of air. Suddenly clumsy fingers manage to stop liquid from overflowing the current tankard she's filling, and she sets it to the side. Some part of her tells her to arch her back, to lean over just a bit more, and, wantonly, she listens to that part. Her bottom digs into his hand, rubs further to connect with the fabric of his pants, and Bull gives out a low hiss in response.

Reason tries its hand at entering the fray. "We...shouldn't. They're two floors above us." Even as Sataareth's wiggling her bottom, trying to meet his cock.

A chuckle. "What are you implying, Kadan? We're only getting drinks." It's ragged around the edges as his other hand comes into play, both moving to still the wiggling of her bottom. She has a split-second to take a breath before he slams into her, clothes still in place, though, with the angle (and with how hotly she seems to burn for him), it's so close to not mattering. She almost loses her balance, managing to brace herself onto the underside of the bar before she falls over. After the initial thrust (she didn't expect this; maybe something _after_ she lost her earnings to Varric, but not _during_ ), he presses all of his body against her back. She is able to feel the heat radiating off of him, his chest pressed so intimately against her back, his steadily hardening length brushing up against her breeches, _so close_.

Andraste, please look away. Your Herald's up to some awfully naughty things down here; you probably wouldn't approve too much.

Bull's lips are against her ear, teeth teasing the tip of it. He had told her all Qunari, Tal-Vashoth being no exception, have terribly sensitive ears, much akin to elves. Then spent the rest of the evening proving that fact to her.

And now he's a man obsessed.

She shudders underneath him, damning him and praising him all at once in her mind. Her arms are finding it difficult to support her weight and his, which he is slowly bearing down on her. "Kadan," he murmurs, directly in her ear. She worries for the state of her smalls, a constant worry when presented with The Iron Bull if she's allowed to be frank with herself.

"Kadan," she responds in kind, though the word comes out on the edge of a suppressed moan. He grinds into her once more, groaning into her ear, gripping her ass tighter. She can feel that he's about to try for more, can feel the increased urgency in his movements. And, oh, she is so ready, even with her companions so close. With _all this_ above her, how can she possibly go back to Wicked Grace?

"Oi! My throat's parched and you lot are salivating over each other like halla in heat!" Sera's voice, blessedly far away, intrudes upon the moment, much more effective than Sataareth's earlier attempts to cool herself down by simply chilling her fingers. 

_Damn._

Bull's movements don't immediately halt, just steadily slow down, creating an intense burn that Sataareth knows is completely intentional. "Terrible timing." He's smiling against her ear, nipping in-between words.

"S-Simply dreadful."

Seeing her distress (not wanting to detach herself from Maker-knows-how-many pounds of rippling man flesh but having to since a certain _someone_ decided to intrude), he moves back, taking filled tankards with him. "Mmm, later, Kadan."

She's simply trying to quell the heat in her cheeks once more, in addition to covertly making sure her smalls aren't soaked beyond the control of her breeches. "You bet your sweet ass."

The same ass she's currently watching walk away.

The added sway was for teasing's sake, she fucking knows it.


	2. Oral Fixation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something short bc i'm trash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //stares at story title  
>  _first_  
>  you're all great; hope this tides you over for now.

_Maker forgive me, for I have sinned._ It's the sentence currently on loop within the confines of Sataareth's mind, failing to blur the filthy thoughts lurking on the edges of it. "Breakfast in bed," he had said, lips curling into a grin even as he dropped the hefty plate of food on her unsuspecting lap. She accused him of simply wanting her to do _that thing_ with her tongue and a dab of magic again (and truly, if he did, it wasn't as though he had to pry her affections from her). If possible, his smile became wider.

So she simply rolled her eyes, content to dig into the fruits and mush of grits, pausing to mix them with the buttery-soft eggs on the side of them. "You got this from the kitchen?" She asked, lifting the spoon to her mouth, resisting the urge to sigh in bliss.

He shrugged, said something about " _where else am I gonna get the food, Kadan?_ ", and sidled up next to her, his arm laid casually across her lap, fingers stealing food from her plate. She sucked in a breath at his sudden _heat_ , running at an even higher temperature than she herself, and watched him. What? She's well within her rights; what with him being in _her_ room and all.

That intake of breath from earlier became even more audible when he placed a strawberry on his tongue, wrapped his lips around it, and _bit_.

So here she is now, thoughts immediately taking a trip elsewhere, blood rushing south, and outright begging the Maker to just kind of ignore all her transgressions when it comes to Bull. Again. As per the usual. And torn between hoping that he both doesn't notice the sudden way her lips have puckered, making her seem as though she's eaten a fistful of lemons.

But damn him, of course he does. And the groan he lets out when he chews the berry is terribly telling. His eyes slide shut. The groan expands into a full-throated moan.

Sataareth's smalls let out a wail of indignation.

_Maker..._

He'll be the death of her.


	3. Anal Fingering/Rimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bull's such an ass man, come on  
> you gotta respect his devotion

Three  
Rimming

"You sure about this?" It's sweet of him to ask, she notes, especially when her ass is already in his hands and he's pointedly asking the question to _it_ as opposed to her. He's kneading the flesh spilling over from his grip, fingers twitching ever-so slightly in a betrayal of his excitement for the events about to occur. Terribly precious.

How can one deny a man with such a devotion to her posterior?

"Of course I am," she replies from her place above him (a somewhat boggling position for her to be in every time it happens), turning her body in his hands so that she's facing away from him. But she turns her head back, just in time to see the childlike glee bloom in his one good eye, the faint quirk of a smile resting against scarred lips.

Darling.

"Alright." His voice is low, thumbs slipping next to the crease of her bared bottom, neither one _digging_ per se, but their prescence is enough; the slight whisper of claw next to the seam of her ass is enough for a shiver to slide along her spine, enough for Sataareth's elbows to dig into her bed further, her back to bow inwards. She's presenting that part of her to him even further, showing off what's she's not altogether should be _shown off_ (no no, just not hers; she's never thought she'd be in this position, but being with Bull's taught her a few things), all primed and ready for...this?

 _Sataareth, darling, be honest with yourself. The attention he's been giving your ass, you should only be surprised he didn't ask for... **this** earlier._ Funny that the berating tone in her head sounds an awful lot like Vivienne.

"Alright." He says again, tongue flicking out to taste at his upper lip. It draws Sataareth from her short riviere; she's back to looking at him with slightly dazed eyes. The warmth of his hands clashes with the draft in her room; every spot of her bottom that he's not touching, she feels uncomfortably cold. And he's still staring at her ass as if she's offered him The Golden City, albeit more...spherical in shape.

She's not certain she'd appreciate the idea of gods residing in her ass, to be quite frank.

Impatient, too nervous by far, she wiggles her bottom in his grasp in an attempt to get him to... _move_. Looks back at him with what she hopes is a coquettish gaze and murmurs in her best Orlesian: " _Bon appétit._ "

His intent heart-to-heart with her ass is cut short with a short bark of laughter. "Ah, _kadan_..." There goes that flutter in her stomach; every damn time he says it, honestly. "Don't worry. I will."

The thumbs circling the split of her bottom move a bit faster, the remainder of both his hands digging into the meat of her flesh. He inhales deeply, preparing himself as much as her, and _oh._

One of those thumbs moves, slides in-between the rounded cheeks of her ass and presses against what was once hidden. She jerks, the feeling foreign, and immediately feels his voice against her ear as his thumb moves away. "You okay?"

 _Big dumb sweetheart._ She nods, opening her mouth to respond because she knows he won't be satisfied with a simple jerk of her head. "'Course I am. Just surprised me, is all."

Nevertheless, he doesn't replace his thumb, other hand idly stroking her thigh. "You remember our word?"

"Yes, _daddy._ "

She can see Bull's horns flick in the periphery of her vision, a surprised movement before he chuckles again. "Another time." _Maker preserve me._ "Our word?"

She parrots it back to him, smiling at the reassured expression he offers.

 _Big adorable sweetheart full of sweetness and light._ They'd both have reputations for being inconsolable softies should anyone see this tender care, Maker.

His thumb moves back to where it was, slides within the crease. His other hand fumbles in the blankets below them, comes up with the oil they'd picked out earlier with a triumphant (yet slick) noise. Followed up by the slimy feeling of it being applied directly to where his thumb is, the chilly liquid making her shiver.

Above her, Bull laughs. Jolly fuck.

The appendage pressed so intimately against her slides back up, collecting the oil on the upward glide and roving back down. The other fingers of that hand come into play, now also firmly caked in oil, still rubbing against her bottom before the thumb moves, pressing inside. Her body accepts him with a curious fervor, sucking in his slicked finger with a lack of hesitancy that would worry Sataareth were she not being assaulted with all the new sensations. She grips the blanket below her, drawing in a ragged breath. His thumb within her gives her body a weight that's...unexpected. And she's never felt anything in that end, so the feeling of full-but-not-quite that she's used to being in one orifice moving to the other is...

She'll hold off all judgment until the end, but, for now...Not bad? Not nearly as bad as she feared so far, but it helps that she's doing this with Bull and not someone else.

His other hand moves around to her front, finds her wet, and rewards her open-mindedness with two fingers languidly rubbing against her clit. "Good, _kadan_. Very good." There are fingers at her clit and his thumb finding enough purchase to pump in her bottom and Sataareth isn't quite sure what to do with her body. She feels suspended by Bull's hands, her entire top half pressed against the sheets--which are diligently soaking up her nerve-induced sweat. Her ass is even more in the air, probably too close to Bull's face for her sake, but, isn't that the point?

Her ass. His fingers. His face. Oh, _Maker_.

This is the Void. She's in it. Finding out she's got some sort of fetish getting Bull on her in any way he wants to must be some sort of dark imagining. She'll never tell him; he's got enough of an ego.

One that's rightfully earned, but still...

"You still with me?" His voice is really close to her bottom, the edge of a horn scraping her back. Sataareth flops her face to the side, tries to get a better view of what, exactly, he's doing when her orgasm stills her movements, roils along her spine, makes her see in a fuzzy white haze for just the proper amount of time. He gets his thumb out of her and wiped off without her even noticing the squelch of sound, the slight _pop_ that would've probably had made her laugh.

She comes down, clenching and releasing the blankets. "Uh-huh." Tongue too thick for anything else.

"Good." And that's all the warning she receives before both hands are back on her ass, spreading her apart for his tongue to press against the seam his thumb was so enthusiastically enjoying. So soon after her initial orgasm, Sataareth is still tender, sensitive, and the insistent wiggling of his tongue makes small tremors--aftershocks building up to another orgasm--shake her. Her head rolls, face mashing back and forth in the blankets. She mutters a curse in them, stuttered out on the edge of a sigh.

In, out, flicking against the edges of where his thumb was, a gentle nab of teeth coming out to make her toes curl behind her in woe. A fluster of thoughts going through her mind, mostly consisting of four-lettered words and blasphemes. She does the latter a lot.

And the hand that was once at her clit returns. She thought she was in the Void before. **Ha.**

Agonizing bursts of white flicker behind her lids, grunts have her moving back against Bull's ( _sweetheart, **menace, you awful, awful person ******_) tongue as if she were in heat, fists gone pale from gripping her sheets.

Her second orgasm blends into a third, fourth, fifth. She chokes out a sob even as Bull's tongue ceases its plundering and his greedy fingers acquiesce. Wipes his hand so it's dry when he runs it down her back. Pulls up her shaking and just-about-boneless form and drapes her across his bare chest.

His fingers are running through her locks when he asks if she's alright.

"Maker, yes."

"Had a good time?"

" _Maker, yes._ "

The low timbre of his laughter rumbles in his chest. She can feel it against her cheek and smiles.

Giddy fuckers, the both of them.


End file.
